To Have and To Hold
by ohEvangeline
Summary: That's how he was going to start the possibly most romantic night of his life? Come on brain! She'd tortured him for years, he just needed one night. One time when she could be his. Twenty years later, he still thinks of her. Companion to Only One Night.


"Ow! Wha- Malfoy! You insufferable git, what was that for?" Hermione Granger fumed up at him, her brown eyes snapping with flames. They had just bumped into one another in the hall and she had then proceeded to drop her books on her toes and bang her elbow painfully against the wall. Somehow, this was his fault. He was a bit too engrossed in watching her wavy hair flutter about her face to register exactly what she was saying.

She really did have lovely eyes, especially when she was angry. Amber flames rather than melted chocolate is how he personally described it. The sunlight from a window high above the corridor they currently occupied cast her face in a golden bath of beauty, not that it was the sun making her beautiful, it was just showcasing what was already there. A perfectly heart shaped face framed by luscious waves of hair whose color was a cross between dark honey on the comb and the same anything-but-ordinary brown of her eyes. Oh her eyes, framed by those long, curling eyelashes. They would be the death of him.

And those lips! Perfect, full, kissable lips. One kiss... now however didn't seem to be the time. As he stared at them, Draco realized they were forming a rather nasty insult. Something to do with inbreeding and clumsiness. He tried to remind himself exactly **why** she was so angry- this time.

"Are you hearing a word I'm saying Malfoy?"

Just like any other dazed, lovesick boy would do, he foolishly answered with the truth, not of course, really registering what he was answering to. "No."

"Aargh! You are ridiculous! Every six feet two inches of you is beyond help and what in the name of Merlin are you doing?"

At that point he had been describing, silently to himself, the virtues of her delicate build. Slight curves well defined underneath her uniform, a soft body he would love to have pressed against his own. Just to hold her and have her. At her question however, one he finally processed, he jerked his eyes back to her own.

"What?"

"I asked what you were doing."

"Oh.. uh, what were you saying?"

"You... forget it. You are hardly worth the time."

"Right..." Then she flounced off and he once again forgot to determine what was going on as he realized this view was almost as good as the one from in front of her. Merlin bless whoever invented short skirts.

"Nice Malfoy. Shoving around the one person outside of Slytherin who still thinks you're worth human life." A snarky Ravenclaw girl hissed at him. He stared at her in surprise.

"Shove...? I didn't shove her!"

"Right." She glared at him and moved past. Sighing, he had to acknowledge that she was right about one thing anyway: most people hated him. He couldn't exactly blame them, he had, after all, tried to hand their saviour over to the dark lord. He was too proud to admit that his concern had been getting his parents away from the monster. Hey, Potter went of his own accord in the end anyway right? Where exactly was the difference? Same result, different delivery method.

Why did she care if he was worth life? He knew she was compassionate and caring, not that he'd really experienced it, but he knew it was true just from watching her. And watch her he had, every blessed chance he got. To the point of his best mate noticing.

"Oi Malfoy, pining again are we?"

"Shut it Blaise." He growled. Turning to look at his friend, he noticed something across the corridor that didn't belong. Looking more closely, he realized it was a book. Stepping that way and bending over to retrieve it, he saw that it was a Potions text book, and the name on the inside cover was written in neat feminine handwriting: H..

Cor, her book! She must have dropped it when he'd accidentally bumped into her. He hadn't meant to, even though she obviously thought he had. He'd been trying to inconspicuously smell her hair. Definitely raspberry.

"What did you do? Nick one of her books too?"

"She dropped it, I'll just give it back." An idea stole over him. She wouldn't notice if something came with it. Without giving Zabini a word of explanation, he took off sprinting for the Charms classroom. He still had at least five minutes before the bell and she would be waiting for Potter and Weasley. Perfect.

There were only a few other students in the room, none of which bothered him with more than a quick identifying glance. Pulling a scrap of parchment from his bag, he wrote in block letters.

**MEET ME ON THE ASTRONOMY TOWER AT MIDNIGHT. BE ALONE. I NEED TO SEE YOU.**

Perfect! Her curiosity would get the better of her, and she would never risk endangering her chance to satisfy it by coming with someone else along. Tucking the note inside, loosely so she would notice it, he waited for her and her friends to come along.

He knew her well enough to expect her bag to be hanging open. Usually it was too full to close, but just as often it was because she was thinking about something and forgot it. When she walked past, flanked by Potter and Weasley, he put on his old cold smirk. The boys ignored him and she gave him only a slight glance, simply parting to go around him. He slipped the book in and she never noticed. He didn't hold the power to make her notice with only one of his superior looks anymore. No one with a father in Azkaban and a mother fresh out did.

The seed was planted, now all he needed was for it to work. He spent most of Charms watching her, waiting for her to discover it. He wasn't really expecting her to, but he certainly wished for it. Wishing must have paid off however, for at the end of class, as she was adjusting things in her bag, she came across the spare bit of parchment. He knew when she read it, though he couldn't see it, because her eyes narrowed slightly, eyebrows dipping down in consternation. She decided to keep it a secret he saw as she tucked it discreetly in her pocket and went back to her conversation with Potter.

He knew she was already there when he arrived. Partly because the smell of her remained on the stairs and partly because she was always early and he was a little bit late. Stepping off of the eerily quiet stairs, he stopped to just watch her for a moment. She was perched on a parapet looking at the night sky in jeans, a tee shirt, and a dark cloak similar to his own. His was specially chosen to hide his particularly noticeable hair. Platinum blonde did **not** blend in well.

"Early of course. I should have known." **That **was how he was going to start out the possibly most romantic night of his life? Kicking himself a thousand times over he stayed in the doorway. For now anyway, he didn't want her to know who he was.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" Sweet Merlin, every breath from her lips was nothing short of alluring.

"Curiosity. I wanted to see if you would actually come if I asked you to." Not being able to stand the distance, he pushed away from the doorway he'd been lazily leaning against and moved to within ten feet of her. "How smart, Miss Granger, do you think it was to actually come?" Okay... going for mysterious. His mouth was making this up all on its own and his brain was trying to keep up.

"People know where I am. They know to send help if I do not return by one." She was lying, he knew that in an instant. Her shoulders were back in a confident pose, but her chin was not raised and her right hand was opening and closing. He knew her too well. A bit frightening, actually.

"No, I think not. You told no one, afraid they would tell you just how stupid it was and diminish your intellect. You were afraid they would try and stop you."

"So? Should I be afraid of you?"

"I don't know, should you?" He laughed then, realizing he had never done so with her before. It was hollow as he thought about all the reasons she could answer 'yes' with. Malfoy, the black sheep, the poisonous Slytherin snake, the recently humiliated dragon. But tonight he was only a boy she didn't know that wanted her, loved her, beyond all reason.

"I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you're asking. Nor will I attack you in any manner. No, harm is not what you must fear."

"Then what should I fear?" He was facing the lake, watching the moonlight play upon the inky surface with the light touch he wanted her to direct towards him. He wanted nothing more than to be the object of her desire, the one she was intimate with. The one she loved. He turned away from his position by the wall and moved to her, nearly touching her and heady with the experience. She was looking up at him expectantly and he knew she couldn't see him and had no idea who he was.

He couldn't do it. He wanted right then and there to kiss her and confess his love and beg her to understand and never leave him. He wanted to entrap her with his declarations and charms, make her love him back, and sacrifice everything for him. But he couldn't do it.

"Fear me. Fear what may happen."

"And..." She swallowed before answering and his eyes glued to her the lovely curve of her throat. "And what may happen?"

He brought his hand up to her cheek, knowing that the brightness of the moon prevented her from seeing him. He lifted her chin so he could see her though. "Anything." Without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her. Fire coursed through his veins, heating him to his very core. Her arms lifted to wrap around his neck, his arms encircled her waist, pulling her close. She melted into the kiss, her body molding with his. He nearly choked with the grief of knowing he was letting go and almost cheered with the fierce passion behind her kiss.

When they broke apart, her eyes remained closed. Long enough for him to make sure his face was still hidden. "Are you afraid?" He asked softly.

She shook her head. "Why?"

"You don't know me. I may not be who you think I am." He was desperately trying to make her nervous, afraid, so he would have an easier time never having her.

"I have no idea who you are."

"No guess?"

She eyed him with suspicion. "You aren't a teacher are you?" He laughed then, low and warm. She never stopped surprising him and he loved every moment of it.

"Hardly. Though I am sure I could teach you a thing or two." She blushed furiously. "You are beautiful Hermione." He breathed in all honesty. She was glorious in fact, and he was enamoured of her.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you are. Your hair, your eyes, your gracefulness. I love watching you move."

"You like me because of how I move?" Oops. He backtracked.

"Hardly. I noticed that long before attraction ever even occurred to me. No, it was more than that. You're intelligent, you're caring and understanding, you are noble and you are saucy."

He recognized the look in her eyes, the want to know. To find the answers she might regret but longed for anyway. Moving toward him, she placed her hand on his chest, peering into the shadows that were his face.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the one who you have tortured for nearly a year."

"I tortured you? But I was gone." She had been horcrux hunting with Potter and Weasley, leaving him to despair as to her whereabouts until the fateful night at Malfoy Manor.

Unbidden, his hands rose to trace the scars left by Bellatrix Lestrange. Marks left by the cruciatis curse. She shivered when he replaced his fingers with his lips, softly kissing the reminders of terrible pain. "I'm sorry." He breathed against her skin.

"Why are you sorry?" She stared at him in bewilderment.

"I could have helped, could have..." He trailed off, not wanting to reveal too much. Those memories tortured him. Her cries, his immobility, her strength and his weakness. Tears had fallen from his eyes for the first time since he was six over that many a night.

"Who are you?"

He stepped back, sensing that at any moment her curiosity would get the better of her and she would snatch the hood away from his head.. "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do."

"No, it's better you don't. It would only hurt you."

"How could knowing-?"

"Just trust me. I hardly deserve your trust but... please."

"Why ask me here, if you aren't planning on telling me who you are?"

"I just wanted to see you alone. I swear, one night is all I need. Needed. I'll leave you alone, you'll never know me and you'll never be bothered by the knowledge."

"'But..."

"Hermione, no." His steely tone stopped her, then he gentled. "Just let this be enough?" His hand came up to her cheek again. She was so soft, so perfect. He would have her forever if he could. He would give her everything he could, which at this point was only himself and a big abandoned manor he never planned on returning to. Resisting the urge was harder than anything he'd even done. She belonged to some good old bloke who would treasure her, worship her, and let her boss him around. Someone like bloody, effing Weasley, damn him. So he settled for kissing her.

Her kiss was all that mattered at that moment. Her touch all that he felt. She let herself melt into him, let his hands rove over her in hunger. Then she lay in his arms, content to watch the stars pass by overhead. Dawn was approaching when he pushed her away, reluctantly acknowleding that besides the fact his disguise would soon do him no good, she was tired and he was losing resolve. Simply holding her was heaven.

"Good night sweet Hermione. For one night, if only that, I could say you were mine to hold and mine to have."

"Please..." But she stopped. He would not tell her and she seemed to realized that. He could not resist it, his lips tenderly caressed hers once more, then he was gone as suddenly as he had come, disappearing onto the soundless stairs. He ran from there all the way to the dungeons. Zabini, the only other seventh, or eighth, as it were, Slytherin besides himself said nothing.

_Twenty Years Later_

Scorpius was due home that day from his third year of school. Thank Merlin he was growing up more like his mother. He was a Slytherin who more or less carried the legacy of top notch student but underneath the proud exterior he was soft as melted chocolate...

Thinking of melted chocolate, she was here somewhere he was sure. The one girl, woman, he could never forget. He was singly faithful to his lovely wife, Astoria but memories would never leave. He and Astoria had met through her sister Daphne, who was in his year at Hogwarts, and had hit if off rather well. Well enough to take a tumble some months later and rush to the altar. Not so rushed it wasn't lavish, but enough only speculations could be made about the likelihood of conception during their honeymoon.

He certainly didn't regret marrying her and knew that eventually he would have anyway because he certainly loved her. Not in the crushing, burning way he had Hermione, but he respected her and adored her. It certainly didn't hurt his pride a bit that she was a timeless beauty either. Even after two miscarriages, but then it had been tears more than anything else that had seemed permanent.

Scorpius had come home after first year complaining about some know it all Gryffindor red head that he was always clashing with and who inexplicably beat him out in all of his lessons. She was a bushy haired terror he said and proceeded to physically describe her, who was later identified as Rose Weasley, though Draco had had a pretty good hunch after 'bushy-haired-know-it-all', so well that his parents raised their eyebrows over his head and smiled. Just before sleep that night he had mentioned how fast their son was making friends with this girl he loathed and Astoria had laughed softly "Give it three or four years love."

Now he was guiltily searching the crowd for the mother of said terror, hoping upon hope to see her smiling at someone the way she had smiled at him once. Literally: once. He was scanning the back of the crowd when he accidentally bumped into a waiting mother.

"Excuse me ma'am."

"Quite alright." Oh blessed Merlin he knew that voice anywhere. Not even twenty years could dim the memory.

He turned to look at her and pasted on a friendly smile, while raging on the inside with turmoil. He had hoped to see her, not actually come in contact with her. "Oh, Mrs. Weasley. How are you?" He went for diplomatic.

She stared at him for a moment and he wondered if something was wrong with him. Or her, but he very much doubted that. She had always been perfectly pulled together. "Uh, fine, thank you. And you?"

"Very well. Excited to see my son. Hard to see them grow up." Hermione blinked as he spoke rapidly. He meant what he said, but he sounded like a ninny mixed together with an aging housewife.

"Yes... uh-yes. Very hard." Suddenly she paused, looking thoughtful. He remembered that look, she'd worn it so often during class when something occurred to her or during a test when she was sorting through the library in her brain for an answer. Suddenly she leaned forward and... sniffed?

"Um?" He was slightly confused and rather disconcerted. Raspberry, she still used raspberry shampoo.

She blushed furiously. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just... that smell..."

"My cologne, I've worn it for twenty five years." He was rather proud of it, it was something he had made himself through experiments. Back then he had been all about originality, never wanting to be considered like anyone else for any reason. He had considered himself superior.

"You must like it."

"It's unique. No one else has ever worn it."

"No one else?'

"No." He eyed her suspiciously. How had his cologne become a topic of casual conversation? Then she switched directions with the speed of a horse on a dime.

"Why are you being so polite?"

He paused, confused by the change in topic. "What?"

"You're being so damned polite and I'm afraid I don't understand. You've hated me for nearly thirty years."

"No." He ruefully shook his head, thinking about the truth. He had hated her, or rather, what she represented. Which was everything opposite of what his parents taught him to approve of. "No, I only hated you for about five. Then..." 'Then Merlin have mercy I fell head over heels for you.' He thought it better not to voice that bit aloud.

"It was you." Her eyes grew round. "But that's impossible."

"Me?"

"On top of the tower."

"Oh, that. Yes, well, long time ago." He tried to dodge her sudden deduction and turned to leave, retreat was really a better word for it. Or flee. Yes, he was fleeing.

"Stop!" He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. Tell her no when she was this determined? He did want to live to greet his son after all. "Why? Why me?"

"You truly are amazing. But it was just one night." He finally admitted. There was no hiding the truth of it from her now.

"It could have been more!"

"Really Hermione? Do you really believe that?" She did not answer, simply stared at him. He knew she had probably imagined some dashing Romeo prince that would have swept her off her feet and taken her to his castle, but he doubted she would have liked his much. "We were enemies, if not really in the truest sense. If I had revealed myself to you, you would never have let me have you, hold you, if only for that one night. Things were better that way."

She looked down. "I don't regret marrying Ron, I love him."

"Good. He loves you, he's good for you. He protects you." He meant it. After all this time, he knew he meant it. She was happy, and so was he. He wouldn't give that up.

"You made me burn." She whispered. "I always did like fire."

His finger reached out and traced the scars, the scars he had kissed so long ago. He could still feel the small ridges beneath his lips, they had tortured his soul. "You were not meant for fire."

"Why...?"

"Some things not even the know-it-all can know." He grinned wryly. "Goodbye Hermione." She let him go, and he wove through the crowd looking for his wife. He didn't regret his decision, he only, like any normal human being, wondered about what might have been.

"She was mine to have for one night." That, he knew, was all he'd ever had and truly, as he'd told her all those years ago, all he'd ever needed.


End file.
